It's Magic, y'Know
by AnneAquila
Summary: What comes to your mind when you think of Hogwarts? Magic? Friendship? Shenanigans? Well, this fic has all of it! Couple of one-shots set in a Hogwarts!AU. Will feature all characters at one point or the other. Enjoy!
1. Midnight Misadventures

**A/N** : Hey guys! It's me, AK! *comes in late, sipping starbucks* This is a thing I made for the Klance Hogwarts week and Klance month. It was supposed to be a coherent piece, but it slowly devolved into a bunch of one-shots. So here it is!

* * *

 **Midnight Misadventures**

* * *

Lance stood very, very still.

This wasn't quite what he had expected when he snuck out for a midnight snack.

The footsteps of the teacher on patrol echoed about like a phantom.

Seems like they were going to be here for a while.

Lance sighed internally.

He rubbed the fabric that covered them between his thumb and forefinger.

It felt like a phantom- cool to touch and providing little resistance against his fingers.

He felt a bit envious.

An invisibility cloak.

One of the rarest of the rare.

And if he wasn't wrong… (And despite what his friends would tell you, he is rarely wrong)

He has seen invisibility cloaks.

He came from a wizarding family after all.

It was the invisibility cloak.

The one that belonged to the vanquishing hero Harry Potter himself!

 _Seems like the rumors were right for once,_ thought Lance, _there really is an heir of the Potter family in Hogwarts_.

Well, not a direct heir.

The Potters had died out after several generations of girls marrying into other families.

And when the only son of the surname had gone AWOL in a war against Korea, it was the final nail in the coffin.

But then again, the Potters were never stuffy people despite half of them being from Slytherin- they took it quite well.

The surprisingly small body that trembled against him must have that bloodline.

Lance shifted a bit, trying to catch sight of the other's face.

The other shifted with him, obviously nervous.

But in doing so, there was a rustle of robes.

Green robes.

And right at that moment, a teacher popped his head around the corner.

Lance had the worst kind of luck.

Of all the people it could have been, it was Professor Adam.

The Head of his House.

And by the hitch of the other's breath, he could tell that the Professor had been recognized twice.

Lance hesitated.

Gryffindor were trailing behind Slytherin by a measly ten points.

If he notified the professor now, then he could plead accomplice instead of guilty.

If nothing else, he'd get a lighter punishment than the Snake.

Sure, Adam would be disappointed, but he was fair.

And Gryffindor would be that much closer to winning.

Lance took a moment to fantasize.

He comes back to the dorms after completing his time- a hero after paying his dues- and is ambushed.

By streamers and the happy faces of his friends.

And maybe the dimpled face of Nyma, telling him how clever he was…

He felt a sudden dampness on his shoulder.

What? What's going on?

Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the choppy breathing and the something that signified tears.

This time, he watched with some fascination as a perfectly round drop of saline water fell from smooth cheeks.

The lighting made it impossible to determine the gender of the other, let alone identity.

But somehow, the sight of that vulnerability softened Lance's heart.

He didn't know why he did what he did next.

Maybe it was pity.

Maybe it was a moment of madness.

Maybe it was because it reminded him of his younger siblings.

Regardless, he did it.

He carefully shifted his arm, mindful of the professor, and put it gently around the other's shoulders.

At first, all that he received in response for his troubles was a hitch of breath.

But soon, the harsh breathing evened out and there was a slight pressure against his torso.

Lance felt warmer by a few degrees.

He shifted slightly to ease aching legs.

It was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

Lance wasn't sure how long it took for him to fall asleep.

He also didn't know how he managed to stumble to the dormitories without running into trouble.

But he did have a vague memory of an invisible figure with soft hands, shaking him awake.

Turns out that Gryffindor really did win the House Cup.

It was a near thing.

Too near.

Keith had finally faced his fear of plants and had successfully harvested a mandrake.

And like the any time he was successful, Keith did it perfectly.

As expected from the Golden Boy of Gryffindor.

Professor Longbottom had been so overjoyed with it that he had awarded Gryffindor a whole 20 points.

As Lance threw up his hat in celebration, he reflected on one thing.

It was the first time that he had ever been truly grateful to the mullet.

* * *

 **A/N** : This is technically my first piece for VLD. Hope you like it!

Oh, and if you have any Hogwarts!AU prompts, I'd be glad to incorporate it. Especially Klance-centric ones!

Don't forget to review!


	2. Diagon Alley

**A/N** : Hello again! A belated happy birthday to our dear emo-boy in red, here's a chapter about him dedicated to him!

* * *

 **Diagon Alley**

* * *

Keith's robes were in one cover, his cauldron and ingredients and who-knows-what else in the other.

Shiro carried the rest of Keith's burden.

He looked at the first year textbooks freshly bought from Flourish and Blotts and felt nostalgic.

He remembered how he had been, then- a lot like how Keith was now.

He looked upon the younger boy with fondness.

Keith was looking around Diagon Alley with wide eyes.

(He actually hooted back to the owls in the owlery. Shiro was _neve_ r going to let him live it down)

But when Shiro ran into a bunch of his friends from school in front of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, well.

Keith got bored.

And one thing you must know about children is that you should never, _ever_ let them get bored.

* * *

Keith opened the door to Ollivander's Wand shop.

He had everything he needed except a wand.

And he had been told that getting a wand was very, _very_ important.

The shop had an ancient feel to it and the very air seemed to be charged with magic.

Keith ventured further into the shop.

There was no sounds of life, no greeting to welcome him in.

There was no head or hide of the shopkeeper.

But on the wall behind the counter, there was a poster.

As Keith looked at it, the young witch in the poster winked.

Keith fell back, startled.

The witch giggled slightly and waved at him.

Keith waved back, bemused.

It won him another silent giggle.

Keith looked around.

There really was no one else here.

He looked at the poster once more.

Felling a bit silly, he asked,

"Do you know how I can get a wand?"

* * *

"So I just pick one up and wave?"

The little witch nodded enthusiastically.

"Wave, swish, flick, whatever you feel comfortable with."

She looked a sweet thing with chestnut hair falling to her shoulders, encasing a pair of pretty eyes.

If Keith had to guess at her age, he'd say that she was a few years younger than him.

She pointed at one of the boxes.

A wand was nestled in it.

It was made of a light brown wood,

Keith picked it up, dubious.

A sudden spark, similar to the time when he put his hand in an open socket jolted through him.

He dropped it immediately.

"What was that?" he asked, spooked.

"Magic," came the reply, with an undertone of _'duh_ '.

"Magic," repeated Keith, awed.

"Well, let's not wait for the grass to grow. Do it!"

Keith moved the wand as if he was slashing through the air with a sword.

He immediately regretted it.

A giant slash cut through the wooden counter.

* * *

"I don't think this is working out," said Keith nervously.

The little witch, or Katie, as she had given her name, tilted her head.

"No geez?"

"…Are you sure I can't just choose one that looks nice and, y'know-"

Keith gestured vaguely.

"You don't choose the wand," said Katie sharply.

"Huh?"

"You don't choose the wand," she repeated, "The wand chooses _you_. "

That sounded really cool.

But…

It didn't sound practical.

Keith looked around skeptically.

There was frost spread around his feet, a scorch mark on the oak wood counter and nuggets of mud clinging to the ceiling.

These were just a few of the many side effects of his wand hunting.

Dozens of wands had been tried out and dozens had been put away.

But the witch just seemed to get happier and happier with each attempt.

"Does that mean all the wands hate me?"

"Probs," said Katie, unaffected, "Why don't you try that one, third row from the bottom, sixth from the left?"

* * *

"Hm… this doesn't seem to be working out," muttered Katie, "A change of perspective may be in order- just give me a second."

And then she slid out of the poster frame.

Keith fell back for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day.

He felt quite aggrieved.

Katie popped back in just to say,

"Oh, and feel free to look around," and disappeared once more.

Okay then.

Keith sighed and looked around.

The worn metal handle and wonky wooden door called out to him.

It would be rude to just leave, wouldn't it?

After a second or two, he made his way around the shop.

She _did_ say that it was okay to look around...

* * *

A small door was pushed open and Keith was hit by the smell of old paper.

A desk stood in the center of the room.

On it, there were stacks upon stacks of parchment filled with tiny lettering.

Keith glanced at the topmost one, but he didn't understand a thing.

The pages were dyed with technical jargon, each phrase more strange sounding than the last.

But one phrase seemed to be repeated, over and over.

It wasn't in English, French, Korean or any other language he'd ever seen before.

But somehow... it seemed... familiar?

Oh well, he couldn't understand anything else either.

He moved away from the desk, continuing his exploration.

In the corner, he spotted a stack of old boxes.

The coverings were worn with age, nearly blending into the stone wall.

It was a curious thing.

And Keith had always been a curious creature.

He inspected it closely.

 _Alder wood, Red wood, Teak, Red Oak, Acacia, Ash, Apple..._

 _Dragon heart string, Unicorn hair, Phoenix feathers, Veela hair, Augury tail feather..._

 _8 inches, 10 1/2 inches, 9 inches, 15 inches, 9 3/4 inches..._

The boxes contained probably wands- it _was_ a wand shop after all.

But the stack was so tall that he couldn't reach the top most box, not even while standing atop a little footstool.

And so, as children are wont to do, he took one from the middle.

Naturally, he sent the whole pile falling.

Keith shielded his face against the falling objects with his arms.

But even as it fell, one wand shook itself out of its wooden casing.

It fell gently into his palm, almost as if by its own accord.

The moment Keith touched the magical wood, a sense of certainty enveloped him.

 _This one._

 _This wand was his._

He waved it once in a gentle arc.

A golden glow rippled through the room.

The door banged open.

* * *

A young man entered, muttering crazily to himself.

When he noticed Keith, his jaw fell to the floor.

"Hullo, hullo, what is this?" he said distracted, "You're not supposed to be here."

He hauled Keith up and carried him out of the room.

"Who let you in here?" the stranger demanded.

"The little witch," Keith whispered, terrified.

"What witch?" he asked, skeptical.

Keith felt panic welling up.

The door opened to reveal a dark silhouette.

Keith took one look at the one at the doorway and burst into tears.

* * *

"Keith? Keith!"

It was Shiro.

A very worried Shiro.

He rushed in and took Keith under his arm.

"I'm very sorry about him!" Shiro exclaimed, "It's his first time here, so he must have lost his way. Honestly, I just turned around for one minute and-"

"It's really no trouble," cut in the young man, embarrassed by such earnestness, "I see that he's found a wand himself?"

"Huh?" said Shiro, looking at his brother and sure enough, tiny fingers clutched tightly at a long wand.

"Um, yes. How much will it be?" he asked while shushing a crying Keith.

"Ten galleons."

"Thank you very much!" cried Shiro, paying the amount and whisking a still crying Keith out of the door in a smooth movement.

The shopkeeper just stared after him in a daze.

"My, my, aren't they in a hurry. A pity really…"

He picked up the box with ginger fingers. He inspected the dimensions noted on it.

"11 inches holly wood, phoenix feathered core, nice and supple."

He frowned.

"Why does that seem familiar?"

"It's because we have a match, Dum-dumb."

The shopkeeper whirled around to face the little witch in the poster.

"Katie!" he chided, "How many times do I tell you not to spy on me?"

"I'm not spying on you, I'm keeping an eye on the shop," she said self-righteously, "and if you use my face to promote sales, I can and will take advantage of it."

"Why are you like this?"

"What can I say, brother dear?" she grinned, "It's in the _genes_."

Matt rolled his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N** : Prompts are welcome and needed; constructive criticism, the same as the previous and keyboard smashes, even more so.


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